


Sir Leon The Long Suffering-Yuletide Tales

by LivingInATimeOf_Myths



Series: Sir Leon the Long Suffering [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Gen, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sir Leon is a Mother Duck, Sir Leon the Long Suffering, very soft, very very very mild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:28:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28339980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivingInATimeOf_Myths/pseuds/LivingInATimeOf_Myths
Summary: An excuse to write holiday fluff with the boys all curled up and sleepy. Leon is a Mother Duck and takes good care of his men, especially Gwaine. Sweet and short and soft.After all drinking too much at the Yuletide banquet, Leon takes care of his company and tucks them in to sleep. There's not much plot and really not any romance, just tooth-rotting, heartwarming, fangirl squealing fluff. Focuses heavily on Leon and Gwaine's interaction, but all potential pairings (except Arthur and Merlin, because canonish) are implied at best. Read as you please and have a lovely night. <3
Relationships: Elyan/Percival (Merlin), Gwaine/Leon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Sir Leon the Long Suffering [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2064387
Comments: 5
Kudos: 97





	Sir Leon The Long Suffering-Yuletide Tales

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays to all and a very good night. <3

Leon wakes to a sour taste in his mouth and an aching head. Sitting up from the chair he is ungracefully sprawled in, he lifts a hand to his face, stroking back stray curls and tucking them behind his ears.

_What happened?_

He stands, wavers a bit and puts his hand on the table to steady himself, and looks around the room for the first time. The first thing he notes is that he is in Arthur’s chambers-the massive four-poster bed is unmistakable. The second thing he notices is that he isn’t alone. The five remaining members of Arthur’s Company are passed out on the floor, fast asleep. Perhaps Leon should worry, but, as he scans the rest of the room, he sees jugs of wine and cups filled with honeyed mead _everywhere,_ and his aching head begins to clear. _Ah,_ right. The Yule banquet. 

He looks at the men interlocked on the floor and huffs, amused. Merlin and Arthur are so close to one another that they’re practically knit together, can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. Their heads are bent towards each other, foreheads touching, fingers interlaced, legs tangled between them. Leon rolls his eyes, regretting it when he loses his balance for a split second and his head throbs angrily.

_Yes, Arthur, I can clearly see you are not smitten with your manservant,_ Leon thinks, smiling despite himself when he sees that Arthur looks like the weight of the world has been lifted off of his back, Merlin like he feels safe and peaceful. 

He turns his head, only to be confronted with the sight of Elyan and Percival cuddled like giant kittens together. Percival, true to form, is curled up onto himself, knees pulled up to his chest, one massive arm beneath his head, snoring merrily away. Elyan, though, is at his back, nose nuzzled in the fine hairs at the larger man’s neck. One leg is slung over Percival’s hips, the other pressed as tightly against the bear of a man as possible. He rests on one arm, the other tightly entwined with Percival’s, the big man grasping Elyan’s hand like a lifeline, even in dead sleep. 

Shaking his head fondly, Leon spins on his heel, ready to leave to his own chambers, except-there is Gwaine on the floor, far away from the others, sleeping in a ball by himself. All thoughts of his own bed and clean sheets slip from Leon’s mind as he walks quietly towards the smaller man, crouches down next to him. From this close, Leon can see that Gwaine’s face is pulled into a frown, brow crinkling at whatever he sees in his dreams.

He is so tightly wound into himself that Leon can practically hear his bones creaking out in alarm. Gwaine shivers violently and Leon looks to the fireplace, where he sees nothing but cold ash. The fire must have gone out hours ago, none of them remembering to stoke it or even bank it for the night in their drunken merriment. _Not,_ Leon thinks despairingly, that it would have been a good idea for _any_ of them to go near flames, as sloshed as they were the night before. 

Through the cacophony of snores in the room, there’s a small noise that cuts through, and Leon turns back to Gwaine, who has somehow- _impossibly_ -curled up tighter, head shaking back and forth, shivering madly. This makes up Leon’s mind, and he sets to work, quietly stripping Arthur’s bed down to the down-stuffed mattress, hands laden with blankets and furs and bedsheets.

Arthur will complain later, Leon knows, about having nothing to sleep on, and Merlin will complain about all the washing that has to be done. Serves them both _right,_ he thinks as he pulls his prizes apart and drops them in different heaps on the floor, giving him a headache for so long. _Poetry. Really now._

Leon takes the sheets and drapes them gently over Merlin and Arthur, tucking the ends in with care. They’re so tightly interwoven that he suspects it will make little difference, but never let it be said he allows his king to catch cold, or Merlin to suffer unnecessarily. 

The light blankets he drags to Elyan and Percival, pushing gently at the large knight to uncurl, just a little bit, as Leon makes sure the blanket is snug around bare fingers and toes. Elyan presses closer to Percival, making it easy to wrap him in a blanket, too, both men losing tension as the blankets trap the heat. 

Finally, left with thick furs and the massive eiderdown normally blanketing Arthur’s bed, Leon sets up what he hopes will be a comfortable sleeping arrangement. The furs he lays on the floor, adding a layer of softness and warmth, padding sore muscles from solid stone. That done, Leon folds the duvet and places it next to the nest he’s created. He crouches down next to Gwaine and shakes the smaller man’s shoulder lightly. Gwaine wakes and he cracks his eyes open to look at Leon, whose chest fills with warmth at the sight of two blurry amber eyes. 

“Wha- _Leon?”_ Gwaine mumbles sleepily, one fist raising to rub at his eyes, body tensing as he tries to sit up.

Leon shushes him gently, smiling softly at him. He stands, helps Gwaine do the same, feeling how cold he is as Gwaine’s fingers latch onto his own for support, and guides them both towards the mound of soft and warm furs. As he helps Gwaine sit down in the middle of the thick pelts, Leon has a thought. He leaves Gwaine pulling off his boots (Leon is all too aware of how uncomfortable sleeping with footwear on can be and is determined to have Gwaine _rest_ ) and crosses the room to where a lonely jug of water sits, its contents untouched. Leon fills two glasses sat next to it with cool water, downs one himself, brings the other to Gwaine. 

Gwaine looks confused as he whispers muddily, “Is that for me?”

Leon’s heart clenches. He _knows_ Gwaine is rarely taken care of, rarely sees to his own needs first, doesn’t feel loved in this strange band of brothers no matter how many times he is reassured. That’s something they have to do better about, Leon decides firmly, and nods at Gwaine, tipping the water into the man’s mouth when it’s clear frozen fingers are not up for the task. Gwaine flushes at the help but accepts it, looking up at Leon gratefully as the cool water flushes the sour taste of strong ale out of his mouth. Cup emptied, Leon places it on the floor, out of the nest of furs, and beckons Gwaine into his arms. 

Confused and tense, Gwaine comes, unsure of his welcome even as Leon pulls him tight. With one free arm, Leon reaches for the duvet, flinging it across both their bodies, sighing softly as warmth blankets both of them. Despite how hesitant he is, Gwaine’s body relaxes immediately at the soothing warmth thawing frozen muscles. Leon bunches furs beneath their heads and pulls Gwaine onto his chest, tucking soft pelts around them until Gwaine is literally blanketed in warmth and comfort. 

Before Gwaine can overthink, become anxious or worry he’s overstayed his welcome, a large hand guides his head down onto Leon’s shoulder. His eyes flutter closed briefly at the touch, body feeling light. Still, he looks up at Leon, just to make sure-the older man softens as he looks down, sees the indecision warring with desperate relief. 

“It’s okay, Gwaine,” Leon murmurs, stroking a hand through soft hair, “go to sleep. We’re safe, everyone is fine.”

_Well_ , Gwaine decides in a moment of bravery, _okay then, but_ -he wiggles until his head is flat on Leon’s chest, hearing the soothing heartbeat thudding in his ears, curling closer to the taller man, delighted beyond measure when he hears a gentle rumble of a laugh through Leon’s chest. He closes his eyes, then, warm and safe and _loved._

Leon breathes steadily in and out as Gwaine drops off to sleep, hand still carding through the younger man’s hair, reveling in how relaxed the man sleeping on his chest is. Leon spares a moment for joy-Gwaine is _finally_ letting himself rest, finally trusting in those around him, allowing himself the comfort of togetherness. That moment is brief, though, as a yawn splits his thoughts in two, and Leon pulls Gwaine tighter. Leon closes his eyes and drifts off as well, surrounded by warmth and deep affection. It is a good night.

**Author's Note:**

> Soft. <3


End file.
